


speaking a dead language

by lesserkey (cogito)



Series: speaking a dead language [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Attempted Slowburn, Established Relationship, Guilt, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Sexual Humor, You know how it is with spaghetti., caster fuckhouse, freshly tossed loose leaf canon salad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cogito/pseuds/lesserkey
Summary: The one where Red Mage inherits a house and Summoner returns to Limsa to keep them company and realizes he may have fallen in a little too deep over his head.
Relationships: Black Mage | BLM Characters/Summoner | SMN Characters (Final Fantasy XIV), Red Mage | RDM Characters/Summoner | SMN Characters (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: speaking a dead language [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759006
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A portion of the Chinese fandom ships the jobs of XIV, and I think the ambiguity of "this character has a name I'm just choosing to refer to them as BLM" and "this character is referred to as BLM", "I ship the job art NPC", and "I ship the job" is what appeals to me. These characters do not have a defined appearance, and you imagine as whatever you think they look like. So long as the pronouns match, I won't ask for anything else.
> 
> Thank you to Lis, Juno, Leo, Morgo, Ciro, and CJ for letting me scream about this incredibly niche project.
> 
> If you enjoyed the work, please consider taking a moment to promote or donate to the [Black Visions Collective](https://secure.everyaction.com/4omQDAR0oUiUagTu0EG-Ig2), [Reclaim the Block](https://secure.everyaction.com/zae4prEeKESHBy0MKXTIcQ2), and [ North Star Health Collective](https://www.northstarhealthcollective.org/donate) in support of the protests against institutional racism and injustice against Black people.
> 
> I can be found on twitter at [lesserkey](https://twitter.com/Iesserkey/).

From the Bokairo Inn, the Shiokaze Hostelry was about a twenty-minute walk.

Summoner liked to take his time for it, however, because of the salt on the breeze. Kugane had the familiar air of port cities that made him nostalgic without being homesick. Plus, Kugane’s charms came out at night, so the slower mornings brought the eclectic surroundings to a more acceptable pace. 

Garlean ships on one side, and Hingashi’s architecture on the other. The way two things clashed elsewhere and just didn't work like it did in Kugane. The tension was still there, mind you, underneath the waves, but instead of the boiling that it had seen in Doma mere months ago, Kugane had lowered it into a simmer. 

The smell was always the first thing he noticed walking into the Hostelry. The sea spray mixed poorly with the scent of meat, booze, and sweat, even though it was yet noon. Bottles of all shapes and colours in various states of drink were already being laid out on the tables, and it made sense. Time was irrelevant for a tavern that was open twenty-four hours a day. 

Summoner had no love for the Hostelry. It was always a weird mix of smells and states and- his favourite sweet-faced, Hyuran waitress glided across the floor to take his order. _Water, for now, and I’ll see you this evening for your finest sake._

She giggled. _I’m not working tonight’s evening shift, but I’ll tell my friends to keep an eye out for you._

_Of course, of course. I’ll look forward to it._

Okay, maybe he had spoken too soon. It wasn’t _so_ bad.

But as soon as she left, he saw his mortal enemy awaiting him, bathed in red that might as well have been the blood of all its failed challengers. Summoner braced himself for the deadly, spiral climb up to the balcony where Red Mage lay waiting.

_When I get up there, you bastard, I’ll bury you alive._

  
  
  


Red Mage was at their usual spot. Their ‘companions that they had gathered for the hunt sat around them, occupying the other chairs. All of them were in their late 30s, maybe early 40s, and completely smashed out of their minds and gathered around Red Mage so close that Summoner could almost imagine their breath, reeking with sake or whatever they were drinking tubfuls of.

Red saw him huffing and puffing his way up the stairs and waved for him to join them. The Hyuran waitress was not far behind with his jug of water. How pathetic had he looked in front of her? He glared at Red, and they smirked back.

_Good luck getting anyone to look at you after that._

Summoner ended up being squeezed between an unpleasant smelling Highlander with the worst beer breath, and Red Mage on his other. He sipped his water carefully, protectively shielding his water so their alcohol would not somehow get poured into it. On Red’s other side sat a sharp-featured Elezen with the highest, most sculpted cheekbones he had ever seen and wished he had been sandwiched over there, instead. 

They were all piss-drunk. The only way to win was to not come at all, but like, if he had the choice.

Red Mage must have sensed his displeasure because that shit-eating smirk _must_ have widened inversely to Summoner’s scowl. “You’re quite late, didn’t we agree we were boarding the ship for Onokoro at ten?”

“No,” Summoner replied, drawing out the syllable about five times longer than natural, partly because he had forgotten, and partly just to be difficult. “Ugh, anyway. Letter for you, from Limsa.” 

Summoner removed the now-scrunched missive from his pockets. “Something to do with housing, probably.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Red reached for the letter, “Is it alright if I take a look, then?”

The table assented, and as they scanned the details, Summoner swore they uttered a soft, barely audible, “ _finally_ ”, which he shelved mentally for later.

After a momentary pause, Red smiled. Not a smirk this time, but a satisfied, pleased smile. “Well. Summoner, you’re a Lomisan local, right?” 

“ _Legally_ speaking, yes.”

“Come with me then, we’ll teleport there and be back before dinner.” To the rest of the party- “We’ll call it a free day and continue our search for the Funa Yurei tomorrow?”

It was agreed, though it was so much “agreement”. Piss-drunk and as charmed as they would, Red Mage could have asked for the moon and they would have climbed over each other trying to yank it out of the sky. 

He downed the cup of water, winked at the waitress as they left, and wished Red Mage would really pick a different table for their gatherings because his knees were really starting to feel it.

  
  
  


Red Mage was waiting for him at the gate of the Hostelry, facing the pier.

“I’m not attuned to the aetheryte in Limsa.” They said.

Summoner’s face blanched, and he delivered his next lines in a flat tone. “What do you _mean_ you’re not attuned to the aetheryte in Limsa Lominsa?”

“I might be? I mean, I don’t remember it.” They shrugged, half-hearted, “I don’t know. You’ll have to help me remember exactly which one them it is.”

Summoner didn’t respond immediately, so Red Mage smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek, “Please?”

“Alright. Yeah, fine. I was just working on it.” He frowned, searching for the aetheryte channel. The exact aetheric energy that would help him track down the teleport was… what did he usually anchor on to when he went back? The people, the indistinct laughter, the wares that were being sold for far above their price, the smell of piss and booze in the Drowning Wren-

And then Red Mage kissed him again, but suddenly and open-mouthed and the surprise snapped him out of his teleport. Losing sure footing, he fell on to Red Mage and leaned into the kiss. Red Mage twirled him as best they could. It made Red Mage laugh when they pulled apart. _Cute._

“Alright, I remember now.” They announced suddenly, setting him upright.

Summoner frowned, “You never forgot.”

“Maybe-” Another half-hearted shrug, “I just wanted an excuse to kiss you. See you in a bit?”

Before Summoner could come up with some sort of snarky retort, their teleport had already completed, leaving Summoner to chase after them.

  
  
  


Red Mage was waiting for him a little ways away from the aetheryte plaza when he saw their hand go up.

Squeezing past the throng of people in the narrow alleyways, Summoner partly wished he’d torn up the letter to avoid this trouble. It was the same no matter what time of day he teleported here, almost like these people had nothing better to do than to sit on a bench or twelve forbid, one of the lampposts, and stare into space for six to eight hours.

“This sucks,” Summoner complained as they joined up. Red Mage was smoothing out their clothes. “Walk with me to the next shard. I don’t want to go back there.” 

Red Mage’s pretty face marred by a slight grimace, “Understandable, and agreed.” 

Garuda was softly fanning them as they made their way to the Aftcastle on foot, a welcome relief from the blazing sun. Thinking back on wading through that meat grinder made of flesh, Summoner’s legs quivered, and Red Mage’s, he thought, would probably do the same.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Red Mage asked.

“Oh yeah, was it a housing-related letter after all?”

“Transfer of property.”

“I didn’t know you had family in Limsa.”

“Something like that,” Red replied. End of conversation.

_Hm_. Summoner didn’t like that.

“Maelstrom Command first, then The Mist once they stamp and whatnot. It’s legal documentation so there’ll probably be identification checks or whatever-that reminds me, where are you even from?”

“How legal could legal documentation from a city of pirates even be?” Red Mage shrugged, exaggerating it with a flourish.

“Legal enough, I guess? Don’t ignore me, I asked you a question-”

Red Mage was already ten steps ahead.

  
  


It turned out Limsa Lominsan authorities didn’t really care about identification because, as soon as Summoner walked in the room the commander saluted him and thanked him for his work with Titan and Leviathan. Red Mage shot him a look, something like _, if you wanted to flirt your way into a date it would definitely work,_ that they knew Summoner understood but would probably be too embarrassed to follow up on.

But it worked out for the both of them, because while he was playing catch-up and terrorizing the inhabitants of Limsa Lominsa with a miniature version of Titan, Red Mage flirted their way into a stamp of approval, burned the original letter in their hand, and let the sea breeze blow the ash away.

“Well, the paperwork has been completed. Mist, Ward 16, plot 30 is now officially yours...”

The Miqo’te Yellowjacket hesitated.

“It’s fine. Thank you, dear.” Red Mage placed a hand over his.

“Yes, um! You can pick up your keys with the Housing Manager in the ward once you arrive. You need only show them this document with the seal. Thank you for coming today!” 

“And how might I find myself in the Mist?”

“We have a dedicated Ferry Service that will take you there. Again, if you have previously not had access, the boatman will accept our seal as well.”

Easy. They didn’t even have to pull out the ring. Red Mage patted the blushing Miqo’te’s hand, and tucked the new deed of the house into their inventory, and called for Summoner.

Summoner made a face somewhere between a grimace and a frown as he gathered Titan back into his arms. Red Mage gestured to the commander behind them, only to be pretty conspicuously elbowed in the side as they left for the Ferry Docks.

  
  
  


Mist, Ward 16, Plot 30 was a medium plot tucked between a long stretch of beach and cliffs behind them. The weirdly sideways position on the map meant their neighbours were not within immediate eyeshot or earshot. It was as isolated as you could get in a housing ward. It didn’t matter if they were far away, Red Mage thought, but still, a little privacy was a nice bonus.

When they went to go pick up the keys, the housing manager asked if Red Mage was family to the previous owner. An older Roegadyn gentleman who had retired from adventuring some years ago owned the house. He married a few years ago but his relationship quickly fell apart as his partner left for grander adventures. The manager knew only that the house was being signed away to the family.

Red Mage somehow teared up instantly and dabbed at their eyes with a handkerchief, smiling sadly, and nodded.

It occurred to Summoner that Red Mage and the Housing Manager exchanged no other words other than that as the keys were being passed. The two of them walked along the beach until they arrived at plot 30 in relative silence beside the seagulls and the splash of the waves crashing on the beach and the cliffs.

Above them, the sunny weather quickly turned cloudy, on the precipice of rain. The garden was overgrown with trees, but the miniature Aetheryte stood glowing against the darkness. There wasn’t much to look at- a couple of trees, a bench, a small pond, and a garden table. How long ago had the Roegadyn passed? And how long had it been since someone worked in the garden?

Red Mage took his hand, squeezed, and said with finality, “We’re not going back to Kugane.”

“Like, today, or.”

“No,” Red Mage said again, growing insistent, “ _I_ am not going back to Kugane.”

They did not give Summoner time to think more deeply. Red unlocked the door and yanked it open so hard it immediately slammed shut after them. Summoner shot a helpless glance at Titan and gingerly followed behind, just in case the house was rigged with landmines. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, if you’re interested in paying a little less than for a room at the Mizzenmast while you wait for your signific-ahem, your friend, I have a property in the Mist that might be of interest.”

The inside of the house was thankfully in slightly better shape. It seemed that the Housing Manager’s staff had actually swept through it before handing it over. Though Summoner supposed the inside would have been infinitely easier than the garden with all its dangers, but still, a thin layer of dust graced the surface of the counter he was leaning against. It was still at least a while ago.

Garuda blew it away with a snap of his fingers, and he traced the creases in the wood with his finger. It seemed well-taken care of before the owner had passed away.

Red Mage seemed pleased enough with having a permanent shelter over their head. They meticulously checked every wardrobe and pantry, counting every item silently and waving their hands around. With the first floor finished, Red Mage disappeared into the basement.

“Babe,” Summoner called, “What are you doing?

Red said nothing in reply. Instead, they stomped up the stairs like a child being told they could have all the confections in the store, but with the condition that they had to fit it all in their purse. The world lit up in Red’s eyes like they were seeing stars, even though the house had not been their property approximately twenty minutes ago. 

Even if Red Mage didn’t care about how the house could have been ill-gotten means or almost seemed to relish that fact, Summoner entertained a thought. If something did happen for whatever reason, the fault wouldn’t be with him, but with Red Mage, right? 

From the top of the second-floor stairs, Red Mage leaned over the railing to yell at him, “I call the master bedroom, you can have the guest room, and we’ll rent out the basement if we can find someone to take it!”

“Alright, cool!” He yelled back. Having a room in a house they maintained was much safer than whatever nasty things that were left behind in an inn, even as it was being cleaned daily. 

He heard Red Mage descend one flight of stairs. “We’re going to have to burn or resale all the furniture, though. I’m not using something that someone else’s bare ass might have touched.”

Summoner choked, “What the fuck?”

“If this is my house, I’m going to be naked. If I’m going to be naked, I don’t want to touch something someone else’s asscheeks have touched before--Quit making that face it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.” Red Mage was pouting.

“Come with me. There was a housing merchant where we picked up the keys. If that doesn’t work we can teleport to Gridania or Ul’dah.”

A convenient omission of Hawker’s Alley. Noted.

“Maybe the housing merchants can also get rid of the furniture you seem to _absolutely_ despise, then.”

“I don’t despise-” Red Mage pouted at him again, “You’re the worst.”

“I don’t know, you’re a little worse.” Summoner sighed but opened his arms for Red Mage to jump into when they bolted down the stairs. They made a clean landing and he twirled them around a couple of times before setting them down on the floor.

They took a slow walk along the beach towards the Seagaze Markets, the same way they came.

Red Mage immediately started at work with their theatrics, trying to secure an appointment to move out everything at once and try to put the new furniture in at the same time, Summoner tried to think of what lies Red Mage was spewing now. Maybe something along the lines of, “The thought of looking at furniture someone I cared for so deeply is just so hard to take. It’s unbearable!”

Yeah, that sounded like Red.

That reminded him, though. Did Red Mage have Roegadyn relatives? Wasn’t it entirely possible that Red Mage had married the gentleman, waited for him to die, and then claimed the property that had been signed in his name? Did Red Mage commit marriage fraud? 

Was Red Mage married? Once? Twice? How many times? 

Was he in an on-and-off relationship with a widower?

What about children? Did Red Mage somehow have children they had custody of but didn’t mention? He wasn’t against taking care of Red Mage’s kids if there were any, of course, but the idea that they might have existed?

 _Oh, twelve._ Summoner thought grimly, this was all kinds of fucked up.

Red smiled at him, and Summoner smiled back. Hopefully, they hadn’t noticed how thin that smile was and sensed the panic behind it. 

They returned to work, discussing furniture options with the furniture merchant. Summoner tried to listen in. Comparing it against what he remembered, it was pretty much anything with a surface that could be sat on or leaned against. Then he tuned out. He had to, for the sake of his sanity. It had to stop, somewhere, he just didn’t care that much about home decor.

Though he knew there was still the unsettled matter of replacing the pieces. He would leave Red to it, with their immensely huge aesthetic appreciation for things it would all work out because he could already feel his migraine coming. 

“I’ll be on the beach,” He placed a hand gently on Red’s shoulder, and they barely acknowledged him with a simple wave. It was an acceptable form of dismissal.

Improperly dismissed but dismissed nonetheless, Summoner planted his ass on the beach, staring idly into the ocean. Red Mage had no intention of returning to Kugane, so he had no intention of returning either. While it didn’t sound bad to relax for a bit like this, was it fine to just stop all of a sudden? 

And then there was the thought that Red Mage might have been escaping something like another marriage. The idea made his stomach churn. The issue wasn’t if Red Mage was a widower, the issue was if Red Mage had another marriage or children that they weren’t telling him about. He would ask, of course, but when? And if that turned out to be true, could he have simply left their relationship and returned to adventuring? 

Dark Knight was always looking for companions, he thought, and would probably welcome him. Last he heard, he was in Gyr Abania, liberating Ala Mhigo with some of the others.

The waves before him splashed against the beach, leaving behind little pockets of air as the ocean pulled itself back. Just like the waves, he too would return to his ocean in time.

It was Red’s distinct perfume that snapped him out of his trance sometime later. They sat beside him, leaning their head against his shoulder, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied.

“I must have called your name at least 20 times, what are you staring at out there?”

He rubbed his eyes, “I don’t know. I must have spaced out. Sorry.” He stood up, patting the sand off his clothes, “All done?”

Red smiled. “All done.”

“Anyway,” they said, “The merchants will be over in a few hours at most. I’ve drawn them diagrams for where things are. One of us should stay behind, and the other will try to get our third roommate. I’m thinking of going to the Drowning-”

They saw the look on Summoner’s face and stopped mid-sentence. “I’ll go get our third roommate. You should stay behind. I know you hate that place.”

“It’s not that I hate it-” He tried to argue, but Red pressed a finger against his lips. 

“Hush. I’ll go, so stay put.”

He sighed. There was no argument if Red spoke like that. “You’re not gonna complain if the house looks like crap if you’re not here?” 

“It won’t.” They promised, “Not my house.”

“Be safe, babe.” Summoner said and kissed their forehead.

Red Mage ignored the butterflies in their stomach. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Red Mage slogged through Hawker’s Alley and the horrifying meat grinder that was the Aetheryte plaza. The crowd hadn’t let up at all. Maybe one day these damn pirates would sort out their problems with human traffic. 

The people staring blankly into space were still there, some dipshit had climbed one of the poles and was now balanced on top of it striking a cool pose. A Lalafell laughed from somewhere, at something, at someone. 

_Ok,_ Red Mage thought, _goosebumps breaking, time to go._

When they arrived in the Drowning Wench, their clothes had been sufficiently ruffled, as were their nerves. Summoner would have let them take it out on him a little, but then there was the issue of leaving the house empty with people coming in and out. They could stand to be alone for a little while.

Well, no matter, they sighed. Getting back from here was the easy part. There was a shard at the Aftcastle, the one they took to the Maelstrom, down to the ferry dock.

Red Mage had a cursory glance around the tavern. A pair of people or more sat at every table, save one. The adventurer that sat there alone was dressed to the nines in black, with a large hat that, if Red Mage remembered their Eorzean guilds properly, marked him either a student of the Conjurer or Thaumaturge guild. Either way, he was sitting there with a tome that looked ancient and completely inscrutable. A large mug of coffee, about the same as size as a beer boot, sat on top of the table beside his books.

Red invited themselves over, tapping them gently on the shoulder. "Is this seat taken?"

The adventurer shook his head and spoke in a low, maybe hesitant, voice, "No. Be my guest."

A normal person would have simply left it at that, had their meals or drinks or whatever, and left. But that was boring, and Red was the last person in the world to abide by something simply because it had been a normal procedure. Worst case scenario, if the adventurer got tired of them, he would leave, and then that would free up the table for them.

After ordering their drink, a mix of rum and fruit, Red turned to his companion. "Are you an adventurer?"

He replied without looking up. "Used to be. Recently retired."

"Oh, I see. Where are you staying now that you’re retired?”

“At the Mizzenmast.”

“And where are you from, originally?” 

He put down his tome and tucked it away. Red Mage smiled as sweetly as they could. Either he would leave now, or he was simply too polite to leave.

“Ul’dah.” 

“Hmm, why Limsa, then, if you don’t mind me asking? You don’t have family in Ul’dah?”

“A friend offered to meet me in Limsa.”

“Significant other?”

“No,” he sighed, “Just a friend.” 

“Ooh,” They replied, “That sigh was pretty loaded.” It wasn’t, but the adventurer sitting there had such a placid expression on his beautiful face that it would have been infinitely cuter twisted in pleasure beneath him.

“You’re not from Eorzea.” He observed after a pause.

“Kugane. Here on personal business. Red Mage by trade.”

“Personal business.” He repeated slowly, “What kind?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to hear about it. It’s a ton of hassle of paperwork and nonsense. Nothing juicy or interesting,” Red sighed, and then moved their chair forward so they could place a hand over the hand the adventurer placed on the table. They cast their eyes on the staff leaned against the stone walls.

“Are you a thaumaturge?”

“Black Mage.”

“Ah, understood.” Red Mage smiled again. Black Mage had tilted his head slightly away, and the confusion and slight blush did not go unnoticed. “You know, if you’re interested in paying a little less than for a room at the Mizzenmast while you wait for your signific-ahem, your friend, I have a property in the Mist that might be of interest.”

“What do you mean, of interest?”

“It’s a medium I recently came into possession of. Seaside property. In the process of being re-furnished today.” The waitress was returning with the drink. 

“I’ll wait for you at the Bismarck at 6:30? I fear if I keep talking about it, I’m going to get kicked out before my drink arrives. My treat. We can go from there.”

Exhaling, Black Mage said, “I’ll think about it.”

Their drink arrived, and Red Mage sipped at it between glances at Black Mage, who was still hesitating on whether or not to reopen the book. “Oh. I’ve distracted you from your book. I apologize. I’ll keep quiet while you read.” 

The tome returned to his lap, and Black Mage shuffled through the pages until he found his page.

They weren’t really that apologetic, it was just an excuse to get out of the conversation so they had an excuse to stare at this potential roommate. Black Mage’s eyes had a darker look than anything they had ever seen before. Similar to a bottomless pit, they drew light in and trapped it there, reflecting nothing. Deep circles had etched themselves under his eyes, almost like they were permanent. They were not unattractive, though, and Red Mage did like mysterious men.

When they had finished their drink, they stood up and spun on their heels to pay and leave, but not before placing a hand on Black Mage’s shoulder and breathing a husky, “Come to dinner, please,” against his ear. 

The book hit the floor, and the still-wooden mug clattered the stack on the table, staining the pages with the smell of caramel. Red Mage thought about looking back, but the soft, “Shit,” and then the resigned, quiet sigh, that followed convinced them that they would have their dinner date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Mage is a fucking whore. I love them and would die for them. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, please consider promoting or donating to any of the sources on [this google document ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fb2cioBcCO47L_oGPsjdGVWDAc3RTHU2tIpDtekWKs0/edit) in support of the recent protests against the use of police brutality and institutional discrimination policies against Blacks, Indigenous, and People of Colour.
> 
> I can be found on twitter at [lesserkey](https://twitter.com/Iesserkey/).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, you know how it is with spaghetti.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brainworms has taken over my life. Next chapter goes up at 30k words (in my doc which is at 21k rn)
> 
> As usual, I can be found on twitter at [iesserkey.](twitter.com/iesserkey)

According to Limsa natives, it was supposedly difficult to get a private reservation at the Bismarck, since it was constantly reserved. For who, though? It was this person and that government official, but as Red Mage slid a rather large sack of gil across the table, and all resistance fell to silence. Turns out, it wasn’t very difficult at all. 

_Just say you hate poor people and go_ , they thought, staring at their frowning expression in the glass,

Dinner for two with a bribe. 

The Red Mage in the wineglass looked back at them with the sting of disappointment. It wasn’t like they were doing this for the first time, but still, it left a bad taste when it was done with the sole purpose of flaunting their wealth. 

But most dates were impressed with how deep their gil purse reached, and as a result, it was the best way to get into bed with a stranger. Maybe Black Mage was the same, maybe he wasn’t.

Whatever his’s deal was, Red already decided Black was coming home with them, whether it was into bed or just something tame remained to be seen.

They heard the commotion before they noticed that Black Mage had arrived. Looking miserable and out of place, Black Mage was causing a stir simply by standing in the doorway. The staff blocked the rest of the door, and he brushed his hair from his face.

_You can’t come in without a reservation._

There was no mistaking the disgruntled expression and dark eyes. Black Mage had changed his coffee-stained thaumaturge robes into pants and a light waistcoat. Sensible dress for a sensible dinner, save for the long gloves that ran the length of his entire forearm. _Curious._

“Look,” he said with the irritation clear in his voice, “I’m looking for someone. I have a reservation.”

Oh, Red Mage realized, smirking into the glass, they had never given a name for the reservation. Rather, it was more so that the hosts had completely forgotten. The way their eyes lit up when they saw the gil had allowed their services to slip. Laughing to themselves, Red Mage downed their wine and called on the waiters to bring Black Mage to the table. 

Black Mage sat down rather uncomfortably, pulling at his collar. He thanked the waiters, but then quickly fell silent when they left.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Red smiled, “Would you like some wine?”

“No, thanks.” 

Now the only thing on Black Mage’s mind was how utterly out of place he looked and felt in his chair at the Bismarck. This sort of formal dinner had never been common enough to become ‘his thing’.

Red Mage’s cautious move of location was understandable, of course. Discussing property rentals while sitting in the restaurant that was connected to and essentially functioned as the inn would have probably earned more than a few hidden scowls from the staff. Then who knows, maybe a dead rat would turn up in his inn room?

There were plenty of cafes that might have been acceptable, and yet, Red chose this one. They were smiling at him, alternating glances between their wine glass and him. "Should I have picked a different place? You seem like you’re about to pop out of your buttons."

"It’s just fine, thank you." Black replied, “I appreciate the trouble”.

Red’s smile widened.

He felt so horribly undressed and unprepared. Usually, a fancy dinner came with several days of advanced notice. Was that a thread coming off his shirt? His nicely stitched buttons seemed like they were falling apart. It was fine when he inspected it but between glances at Red Mage and him.... well. He felt like it was fraying.

"Just between you and me," Red sipped their wine. "I don't think the Bismarck qualifies as something so formal. I just wanted to take you out to a nice place, is all."

But it was _all_ nice to him anyway. “Thank you.”

The waitress arrived with the menus, _Can I get you anything to drink, or are you ready to order?_

 _Water is fine,_ Black Mage replied, and found his throat parched and dry. He rubbed at his throat but it stayed dry, so he judged it a futile effort and sat nicely, waiting for the water to arrive.

Wouldn’t this be a funny story to till Scholar whenever they got here? Going out to dinner at the Bismarck with a potential landlord and roommate. Scholar would be beside themselves with laughter, and to be honest, Black Mage was already laughing at himself for saying yes.

“Did you know you have the most wonderful… hypnotic eyes?” Red Mage set the glass of wine on the table and leaned all the way across so their faces were centimeters apart.

“I’m sorry, come again?” He stuttered, When Red Mage touched his cheek with a gloved hand, he did not recoil. The fabric was so soft, so delicate. It might have even been silk. 

If he had ruined them somehow, it probably would have been enough to bankrupt him. He had enough gil to live a comfortable life, but gloves like these went for astronomical prices in the city-states.

“Your eyes are so,” Red Mage continued, still staring, “Mesmerizing.”

They must have been drunk. The wine bottle sat on the cart beside the table, half empty. Red had started drinking even before he arrived, and definitely before the meal. He could smell the wine on their breath, the rich scent of sunkissed grapes warm against his skin.

“Thank you?”

Red’s fingers lingered on his lips for a few seconds, but the clicking of the waitress’s heels forced them to uncoil back into their seat. They tugged their ruffled necktie into place, and giggled, “Excuse me, I lost control of myself for a second.”

His face must have been on fire. 

“Shall we have a look at the menu, then?” they asked, and he nodded. Anything to get his mind off Red’s warm breath on his skin.

Ordering dinner should have been an easy affair. Everything that was in the meals was usually the same, just given different names that made them seem more high-class than they usually were. The bismarck should have been no different.

The menus stared back at him in what must have been High Ishgardian or something with the way the letters curled and looped and had too many vowels. He wasn't sure if they were even Eorzean words. Red Mage giggled, and Black realized he was scowling.

“Is it alright if I order for you as well?” Red Mage asked.

“Yes.” _Please._ He sunk back into his seat. 

The waitress took their menus with a promise to be swift and then disappeared into the kitchen. Maybe he was blind, but he saw Red Mage slip a small pouch of gil into the waitress’s hands before she left. Maybe Red was whispering something into her ear 

Must be a tip for her service? Though usually, that kind of thing happened at the end of a meal.

Red Mage turned their attention back to him, tenting their hands and resting their cheek on them. “So, let’s talk about business. I’m sure you’ve been harassed enough.”

Oh, yes. Here was the meat of the conversation. Black Mage rearranged himself, trying to get a little more comfortable.

“I came into possession of a medium property in the Mist that I’m currently inhabiting with my.. Friend, shall we say? We’re looking for a third person to fill out the remaining guest room.”

“This friend of yours… are they your partner?” 

Red paused. “Of a sort. Anyway, please do come by after dinner to have a look at it. It’s late but, not late enough that he would be bothered by a visit, I don’t think.”

“You mentioned that the property was cheaper than the Mizzenmast? How much are you looking for for the room?”

They thoughtfully pondered the issue for all of about ten seconds, “I own the place, and I’m not looking to turn a profit, so you can take it for free if you’re willing to to help clean the general area and help out in the garden once in a while.”

If the devil was making a bargain for your soul, he might have smiled like that.

“Wait. Did I hear you correctly? Free?” Maybe Red was just taking too fast and he had missed some details?

“You did,” Red Mage untented their hands to take a sip of the wine, “Completely free. No strings attached-unless you count chores as strings.”

“That’s… There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

But Red Mage simply said, “Come look at it after dinner and see for yourself,” and refused to indulge him further.

“.. Alright I, I guess I will.”

Mission accomplished, so Red went back to leaning forward and staring into Black’s tenebrous eyes uncomfortably. It was already uncomfortable to have someone lean that closely in your personal space but there was an intense curiosity burning behind Red’s like a probe. Is it any surprise that he started pulling away? 

The waitress’s heels made them aware of her existence again, making her way towards them with two plates of overpriced spaghetti. Red shrunk back into their seat in an instant, checking their reflection in the wine again and stuck out their foot from underneath the tablecloth just a little and-

Had the plates of spaghetti properly made their way to the table, the waitress might have launched into a treatise about each individual ingredient and how it was so carefully and tastefully obtained but-

It didn’t. 

The plates of spaghetti did an acrobatic fucking pirouette through the air and splattered across Red Mage’s nice blouse and stained it a deeper shade of meat sauce red. 

The waitress screamed and ripped the towels from the table, patting desperately at Red’s shirt to try and get the stain out.

But Red shook their head and patted her shoulder, trying to comfort her failure, it happens to the best of us. 

Black Mage unfroze their shocked body. His brain revved back up, trying to detangle the spaghetti from the event that just happened right in front of him. The spaghetti, the scream, the way Red Mage didn’t seem offended at all and almost like- they were expecting it to happen. 

The hosts came out, probably drawn by the scream, and apologized. Behind them, trained the guild master Lyngsath himself, and all of them were apologizing for the slip-up at once but Red wouldn’t take any of it.

“Shall we just pay?” Red prompted him but was reaching for their coin purse. 

What followed was a fast stream of words about paying for this and paying for that and getting a serious apology and how the waitress would be chastised for her slip, but Red had a plastic look on their face that looked like everything was in one ear and out the other.

Red was staring at the unsightly blotch uncomfortably, so he offered them his cloak, which they graciously accepted. “I’ll walk you to Hawker’s Alley, or home if you’d like that better.”

“That sounds wonderful and all, but... we still haven’t had dinner.”

“That’s fine, you already-” 

Then both their stomachs let out a low growl, and Red was the first to laugh as they pulled him towards the Drowning Wench. 

The evening sea breeze was so different from the day when the sun wasn’t beating down on their backs. Even though the tomato sauce was crusting in their expensive clothes, Red barely paid attention to the walk to the Drowning Wench, and then eventually down to the docks to the Mist.

The knock at the door sent Summoner scrambling down the stairs with the toothbrush still in his mouth when he yanked the door open. 

Red Mage smirked at him.

“Jeez, Red, when you said see you tonight, I thought you would be coming home for dinner, not at-” He looked back at the chronometer, “nearly ten at night.” 

“Well, you know how it is with spaghetti.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Red rolled their eyes and playfully pushed Summoner aside. Whoever they were with didn’t follow and stood in the gardens, admiring or admonishing, how overgrown it had gotten.

“We went for dinner and it ran overtime because the spaghetti got into my clothes, dummy.” Red sighed, “We, being me and our potential third housemate. I’ve asked him to wait a little bit if you wanna change out? It won’t take long.”

Summoner checked himself over. His sleeping clothes were less presentable than his daily uniform, sure, but he was clothed and decent. “Nah, if we’re housemates he’ll probably see me in this eventually. Let him in.” 

It wasn’t just about getting someone to come look at the room, Summoner knew, whoever Red Mage brought was either going to be a one night stand or a hookup. The thought made him a little jealous, but there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn’t like they were formally anything that he could reject to.

“Alright, if you insist.” Red Mage poked their head out of the door and waved the potential roommate in. 

The toothbrush clattered into his porcelain cup. Water splashed onto the floor, and the cup nearly toppled out of his hands and shattered into a million pieces on the floor, saved only by Ifrit’s claws singing his hands. 

_Ow. Fuck. Right._

_Still, What the fuck? Summoner slapped his hand over his mouth. What the fuck was he doing here?_

He quickly shot a glance at Red, but Red smiled innocuously at him and- Right, _right._ He hadn’t talked to anyone about it. Red wouldn’t have and _couldn’t_ have known. They didn’t talk about stuff like this. They didn’t _want_ to talk about stuff like this. 

But his stomach churned and all the contents of dinner felt like it might have just backed up through his throat. The room was shaking like an unstable platform, and it swirled around him before he could get his sea legs.

Black Mage didn’t react to him at all, instead of addressing Red who began pouring three glasses of water. Summoner figured he should have been put off by now easily he was ignored he thought, but it was a complicated cocktail of relief from not being noticed, and sting from being rejected.

Black took a glance around the house and said, “It’s in the basement?”

Red handed him a glass of water, “Oh, yes. Did I neglect to mention that? I apologize.”

“You did.” Black Mage paused, and gently accepted the water, “But It’s not a deal-breaker.”

Black Mage’s gaze returned to him, scrutinizing him like a stranger, and Summoner decided he would rather pour cement down his throat than to stand in the same room as his childhood friend.

But Black Mage must have felt the same because he didn’t say anything before his attention returned elsewhere. This was his chance to get the fuck out of there.

Summoner faked a yawn and made for the stairs. “G’night. Long day. See you tomorrow.” 

He saw Red Mage wave him off, but they did not offer him a good night kiss. The frosty reception was the ultimate thing that his feelings the most about the twenty minutes he had spent downstairs.

The bed creaked beneath his weight, and he immediately flopped and buried his face in the pillow. Ifrit was still concernedly floating nearby and bathed his room in a warm red. “Good night, Ifrit.” Summoner replied irritably and snapped his fingers. His voice was muffled by how deeply he had buried his face into the pillow, and Ifrit quietly wavered, and then faded away. 

He lay awake like that for some time, but sleep did eventually find him agreeable.

It must have been hours into the deep night when the front door creaked open and then slammed shut.

Then there was the sound of bare feet thumping up the stairs. His room door opened, and someone slipped into his bed.

Before he had the chance to be alarmed, Red was curling into his side, tangling their legs together and snuggling into his arms. They pecked him softly on the lips. “Good night, Summoner.

“Good night, babe,” Summoner mumbled back, as relieved as he could be in his half-conscious state.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red cupped his face and said with their voice and fingers quivering, “This joke of yours isn’t funny anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That escalated quickly.
> 
> As always, I can be found on twitter at [lesserkey.](HTTP://twitter.com/Iesserkey)

He was used to dreaming. 

Usually, there would have been the taste of dust on his mouth or the smell of cinders burning away in the wind, sometimes it was the feeling of being torn apart by razor-sharp wind. The egis very rarely gave him a chance to rest.

But as he slowly came to, nothing.

Only silence and the lingering warmth of a body, and the scent of rose perfume, belonging to one, very familiar, Red Mage.

“When did you-” He began, and then remembered the intruder climbing into his bed at ass o’clock. “Good morning, Red.”

The sun poured through the half-closed curtains. It must have been late morning, maybe even noon at that point. Red Mage buried their face in his chest and covered the rest of their exposed skin with the bits of blanket they were holding on to and tangled deeper within the sheets.

“Mm, hello,” came Red’s muffled reply. They wiggled, and when the sunlight hit their face, they instantly dodged into the blankets like a void-kin shrinking from the light. Throwing the blanket over their face only worked for about thirty seconds, because they emerged shortly after, and sleepily asked, “What time is it?”

“I’ll have to check.”

“If you have to get out of bed, don’t.” As if to make a point, they tangled their legs with Summoner’s, trapping him in some sort of blanket vortex.

Summoner resigned himself to his fate. Between the blanket vortex and Red Mage curled up against him, how could he ever leave? Besides, Red’s demands weren’t ever compromisable, and if he left, Red would make an excuse to bully him somehow.

Affectionate bullying was still bullying.

“We should complain, why doesn't the Mizzenmast have black-out curtains?” Red whined. The sleep still clung to their voice.

“That’s- We can complain when you’re out of bed. Don’t you want breakfast?”

They stirred at the thought of food. They sat up slowly, looking around the room in confusion. It hit them slowly, and then like a wagon- this was not their usual sleepy, seedy tavern at the side of the road. 

Summoner bit back a snarky comment. If this was _truly_ the Mizzenmast, he would have had to be dragged in with his guts hanging out while bleeding all over the floor.

Finally, Red asked, “Where- Summoner, where are we?”

“Aw, babe,” He sat up beside them and scooted closer, pressing their foreheads together. Red melted against him, the tension escaping their body.

“Oh,” Red mumbled, “Home.”

Then they flopped back onto the bed and kicked off the covers like a screaming baby who didn’t want to be tucked. “My home.” 

One hell of a way to wake up, Summoner thought. “Yes, yes, your home.” 

Summoner gingerly climbed out of bed and went to pick up the corners of the blankets that had fallen on the floor, careful to not cross paths with the baby spread-eagled on the bed. “What happened to... the guy from last night? The roommate?”

“Oh,” Red pursed their lips, shifting on to their side, “He said he was feeling ill, so he went back to the Mizzenmast not long after you went to bed. I walked him to the docks and told him to come back later if he felt like it.”

Then they glanced around the room, “Where are my clothes?”

“This is _my_ room,” said Summoner pointedly, “You didn’t sleep with him?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Red sat up, “If I slept with him I wouldn’t have woken up in your bed. He’s cute but, I definitely have competition.”

That was a relief, for whatever reason. It really shouldn’t have been. Red sleeping around wasn’t a surprise to him and it wasn’t like he _wanted_ them to stop but- it had been a while since they’d last been in bed with a stranger, and maybe he had gotten used to the idea that he was Red’s only bed partner. 

His breath hitched, only long enough for him to process a flippant joke. Desperate to lighten up the conversation, he asked, “What, you saw his spouse? His family? His kids?”

“Oh my god if he was married I could _never_ forgive myself.”

Summoner stared at them pointedly. “You’ve done worse.”

“Whatever. Anyway, my point is. He’s one of three things. One, married to his work, which is incredibly unsexy. Two, wholly uninterested matters of bed affairs and romance as a whole, which I respect and will back off if asked, or three, being haunted by ghosts of his past.”

“That makes sense-Hold on,”

But Red Mage had already slung their legs over the side of the bed and was on their feet, walking towards their room. The conversation ended abruptly just like that. 

Their tone had made it difficult to tell if it was a joke or if it was a serious analysis. But, Summoner bit his lip, if Black was still thinking about his past, then-

“Oh, for the love of,” Red’s exasperated sigh came from across the hall. They were leaning against the door frame of the master bedroom that they had claimed, “You’re sure I didn’t sleep with the guy?”

“You crawled into my bed of your own accord last night.”

Red looked doubtful, “And you’re sure I was at least wearing underwear?”

Summoner clocked them with a pillow, “If you’re punking me I’m whacking you with the pancake skillet next.” 

Red stuck out their tongue.

“Clean your room, or at least pick your laundry off the floor.” 

“Okay, okay, thanks, Mom.” Red Mage expertly dodged a swipe.

“Put a shirt on. Pancakes will be ready in thirty.”

Exactly thirty minutes later, Red Mage sauntered down the stairs in a crimson velvet bathrobe. Summoner met their eyes and then quickly averted them again. Not because he was embarrassed but- because when Red realized he was looking at him, they struck a pose that would have better suited a courtesan. 

A bare leg stuck out from the slit of the bathrobe, and the loose collar showed off Red’s perfect collarbones. Summoner sipped his coffee, still refusing to look, “Eat your pancakes.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.”

But Red planted themselves daintily in a chair and drowned the pancakes in a sea of oozing syrup.

Summoner leaned against the counters. “When’s that guy coming over, anyway?

Red glanced at the chronometer, “Soon?

It was approaching two in the afternoon, so essentially, “soon” was any time. Maybe he should have found an excuse and started running.

“Listen, I-” Summoner began.

“If you-” Red inhaled, “You first.”

“No, forget it,” He said, “Mine’s not important.”

Red swallowed and laced, then unlaced their hands. They were trembling ever-so-slightly, but Summoner said nothing about it. It shouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking, they thought, it was just-

When they remembered how poorly Summoner had reacted to what should have been a stranger, it felt like a punch in the gut, every time. 

Red tucked a stray hair away from their face. Their gaze fell on the plate of pancakes, on the chairs, on the sofa, anywhere that was away from their maybe-boyfriend. “Um. Well. If you don’t like him or if you would rather it just be the two of us, all you have to do is say something, okay? I may have... rushed into things.” 

Something was off. Red only ever talked like that when they were sick or hiding a secret. “What’s up?” Summoner crossed the room to place a hand on their forehead. “Did he do something…?”

“No- It’s nothing like that, I’m fine,” They gently batted his hand away but, “Last night, you just had such a-I don't know how to say it, bad, reaction when he walked in. I thought maybe bringing him back today would make you upset again.” 

Red was sitting there with their hands miserably folded together. They looked like they were going to start crying any time and their world was going to end with it. Summoner cupped their cheeks and bumped their noses together.

“Don’t worry about it. I just didn’t think you’d be bringing home someone that intense that late at night. I totally got freaked out. I mean, his eyes were super dark and serious-”

Red granted him a small smile. “You don’t like serious guys? I don’t think he’s nearly as bad as Drag-”

“Shut the _fuck_ -” Summoner huffed, “Are you sure you want your guest-our guest- to see you not wearing clothes when he gets here? Eat your pancakes and change.”

“I am wearing clothes.”

“A gown barely qualifies as clothing. I can see your collarbones.”

Red smirked and, with all the skill of an opera singer, said “Don’t I look good, don’t you just want to _rrrrr_ avish me?”

Summoner silently reached for the skillet that was still sitting on the stove, still hot from the pancakes. His stealthy attempt had not gone unnoticed by Red, who laughed and then immediately shoved a forkful of syrup-soaked pancakes into their mouth to avoid a bruising.

It must have been around three that their guest finally arrived. He had a bouquet of roses, red and white, in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. Red Mage scanned the words “Wineport” on the label and understood that it must have been an expensive acquisition.

Red welcomed him in and accepted both gifts graciously. 

“Sorry, am I late?” Black asked, shedding a dark cloak and hanging it by the door.

“Not at all, come in.”

Summoner was still standing in the kitchen when Black Mage walked in. Their eyes met, briefly, before focusing on other things. There was no weird flinching this time, so perhaps it was simply a matter of how late the hour had been. Either way, Red Mage sighed gratefully. 

“Can I get you anything? Water? Wine?”

“Water will be fine, thank you.” 

Red shot a glance at Summoner, who then poured a glass of water and brought it over to Black Mage with his slippers dragging against the wooden floor.

Their hands brushed, slightly, but both pulled back so violently it was as if they had been shocked by a thunderbolt. Nothing had happened, so as they stood there rubbing their hands, Red could only watch in confusion. 

”Downstairs, then?” Red asked, interrupting the silence before it had a chance to settle. 

Black murmured his consent, and Red let him ahead. Before descending, Red sneaked a glance at Summoner still standing in the kitchen. He was rubbing his wrists still, but Black had stopped. 

The basement was only lightly furnished- one bedroom and a living area that was converted before Red had moved in. The bookshelves against the wall were half-empty with unreadable or uninteresting books, content mottled with age. A harpsichord sat in front of an unlit fireplace. Above the mantle hung a portrait of the late Lord Haurchefant.

“I couldn't bear to part with the harpsichord, you see, it would have been impossible to replace on short notice,” Red stroked the lacquered wood with a finger and frowned when it came away with dust.

“You play?” Black was staring at the portrait.

“Not at all, but it's nice to have if someone ever wanted to learn. Summoner told me the man in the portrait was a close friend before his… unfortunate passing.” 

“He... was.” Black tore his gaze away from the portrait to the rest of the basement instead.

Inside the unlit bedroom, lanterns were squished into every corner to try and make up for the fundamental lack of light, but that was fine, Black Mage thought, he was fine with the darkness.

“I’m really sorry about Summoner. He’s still getting used to the move.”

“It’s fine. When did you guys move?”

“Yesterday.” 

“You work fast.” Black Mage closed the door to the bedroom and made his across the floor towards the bookshelves. 

“Are you looking to stay for long in Limsa? What made you retire? 

“My party is reorganizing, and I volunteered to retire.”

“I see. It’s not a permanent retirement?” 

Black Mage shook his head. “Where was your party situated before?” 

“Gyr Abania, helping in the Ala Mhigan resistance.” Black Mage rubbed his thumb against the spine of a water-logged tome, “It’s not something to bring up lightly. The house seems comfortable enough, are you sure you said the right price last night?”

“Oh, yes. It’s free if you want it. I only ask that you clean up once in a while or help with dinner or whatever tasks and bills that might pop up.”

They could see the trepidation forming on his face. Fair enough. 

“We’re not running a somnus ring or anything illegal if you’re suspicious.”

Black Mage pondered the idea, perhaps accepting the words for what they were at face value. Besides, he thought, if it did turn out that they were running and smuggling drugs, the supposedly free room meant he could just up and vanish with Scholar when they eventually showed up.

“I’ll think about it,” He said. 

They returned to the front door, where Red prepared to send him off. “Thank you for the wine and the flowers, and you know where to find us... if you need to.”

Summoner had not moved from the kitchen. 

Frowning, Red called to him, “Summoner, Black’s leaving-”

But there was no response, and Black Mage shook his head, “Leave him be,” so Red sent him away by themselves. 

The house fell silent immediately after. It was the kind of stillness in which you could hear your own breath and only then did they notice there was only one set of breathing. 

“Well, he’s gone,” Red said with slight irritation, “You can stop pretending that staring at a wall is fun now.”

But Summoner said nothing. Waving their hands in front of his face seemed to have no effect either, and when Red held their fingers underneath his nose, Summoner had stopped breathing.

Red cupped his face and said with their voice and fingers quivering, “This joke of yours isn’t funny anymore.”

Summoner awoke on the couch sometime in the early evening.

The blue peeled from his vision and unraveled like a cocoon. Strings of blue lingered like the sun but faded with repeated blinks. Ifrit lazily floated to his side and he nodded back, confirming that he was awake and alright. 

His throat was dry, but even so, he called, “ _Red?_ ”

A silent house greeted him in return.

Summoner climbed off the couch and as he did, fire shot up his left leg and he tumbled face-first into the floor. _Shit._

Immediately he shot an accusatory glare at Ifrit, but Ifrit had unsummoned himself somehow during the tumble. 

Sitting up, and then eventually climbing to his feet, Summoner found no resistance this time. He poured himself a cup of cool water, and by the time it reached his lips the water was already boiling. 

“What the-” He set the cup down and watched the steam billow from the wooden cup.

The door creaked open as he was staring at his hands. Red Mage was standing in the doorway, and the gasp on their face when they saw Summoner made him feel instantly guilty. 

Red dumped the groceries on the floor and made a running jump at him.

“You’re awake.”

“Of course I am, what are you-”

“No, no, it’s okay. Forget I said anything.” Red shook their head and kissed him.

So he kissed back and held them in his arms. They were shivering in the early-Summer dusk. Summer had yet to arrive properly in Limsa, but it was hardly cold enough for a chill.

They stayed like that until Red confirmed his heartbeat against their ears and felt his breath on his skin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was the faint hope that maybe Summoner knew what he had done wrong and would apologize, but when Summoner just sat there looking like a puppy who had been kicked, Red took pity on him and asked, “Are you ignoring me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits forthcoming I just wanted to yeet it out of here.
> 
> [as usual, a shameless twitter plug.](twitter.com/iesserkey)

“Tell me about your roommate.” 

The chirurgeon tapped their quill against a fresh sheet of parchment.

“His symptoms, mind you, not his appearance unless he’s particularly unhealthy for his age that you think it’s worthy of mention.”

“He’s- _oh_. How do I say it?” Red closed their eyes, trying to recall the exact moments of the incident, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him physically, but sometimes he stops breathing and then he stops paying attention and-I’m not sure how it happens. I thought it was a one-off thing and well... it's scary.”

The chirurgeon stopped scribbling whatever they were writing, “What do you mean he ‘stops breathing’?”

"I don’t know how else to explain it other than his heart stops, and then he stops breathing altogether. It happens once in a while and I know that's not normal and I'm- _we're_ worried."

“It's not normal for anyone's heartbeat to stop and restart. Breathing might stop during sleep if the patient is extremely unhealthy or have underlying conditions, maybe, but stopping while someone is awake? It's unusual." They frowned, "When did the first attack start?” 

“Around the time we were talking to our third housemate about moving in." 

“Then it only makes sense to tell me about the housemate as well, doesn’t it?” 

“I'm sure you've met him already?” They laughed, but there wasn't much to laugh at.

"Then tell me about the day he moved in, anything you think might be relevant."

Red Mage nodded, and then sighed again, “Where to start…?”

A small wain with three cases pulled up to the Ward 16 of the Mists at around eleven on a Saturday. Several loud knocks that were more like bangs later, the owner of the house opened the door, huddled in some blankets, grumbled something about it being too early, and then disappeared up the stairs to their bedroom where they promptly passed out again.

During that interval, however, Black Mage had settled into his place in the basement. He hadn’t brought only the essentials. A fresh set of linens he purchased for the bed, a few changes of clothing, and some grimoires he had pilfered (borrowed) from the Great Gubal library for reading.

With the basement officially set up, and their final occupant officially moved in, the house in the Mist was officially ready to go. 

The operant word being "officially."

Because when Red Mage rose around one in the afternoon, the house was silent. By all means, Summoner should have been making breakfast or lunch, and he wasn’t there. 

Red stared at the void in the kitchen with a frown. A cold sandwich sat sadly on the counter. There was no indication of how long it had been sitting there, either. Summoner had attached no note, and he certainly wasn’t around to be questioned about the sandwich or much else for that matter.

They peeled apart the sandwich with slow deliberation. When that was done, Red gave the pathetic, dissected looking thing a pitying glance, and tossed it into the garbage. They marched over to the cabinet to pour themselves a glass of wine, watching the wine fill the glass with barely more interest.

They knew of no errands to be completed, so they allowed themselves a single glass.

As they were pouring, Black ascended the stairs.

After a cursory glance around the room, and perhaps judging by the morose expression on Red’s face, he asked, “Summoner isn’t here?”

“I think he went out,” Red replied without looking at him, “Wine?”

“No thank you.” 

Their conversation drew to a halt.

“If you have somewhere to go or errands to run, go for it. You don’t have to keep me company...?” Red said.

Black’s expression was just barely a frown, “Did you at least have something to eat before you started drinking?”

“Oh, it’s just one glass. I'll be fine” 

Sighing in a way that was reminiscent of Summoner, Black said, “Let me make you some eggs or something.” 

Red didn’t bother objecting. The fight had drained from them the moment they looked upon that sad-looking sandwich that was now in the garbage. Summoner wasn’t there to be bullied, and there was no point in pretending they were happy with that realization.

They traced the lines in the wooden table, treading carefully to avoid getting their fingers caught on any splinters. 

“If you have something to do, you don’t need to stay on my behalf,” Red murmured.

“I’ll go after you eat.”

Just for Black’s sake, they shoved some eggs into their mouth. Frustratingly enough, and Red gave Black a blanched look to make sure he knew how he was intruding on their moping, Black didn’t excuse himself until the whole plate of eggs disappeared. 

Once he had left they let their entire face drop against the table. 

The house was silent around them. They heard breathing, but it was only theirs.

Acknowledging it felt like it would leave them vulnerable, so they were trying not to think about it too hard, but without anyone around, the house felt a little lonely.

Red stood up and marched upstairs. 

Summoner left his door slightly ajar, so they yanked it open and made a diving leap straight into his bed.

The sheets, the pillows, the blankets. It all smelled like him even if he wasn’t there. But a bed wasn’t a warm body, and when the euphoria from his scent wore off they rolled themselves up into a burrito, tossing left and right a few times before they grew tired.

Why hadn’t Summoner said anything if he was leaving? Was he coming back?

Ah, shit, Red went limp against the mattress, I’m missing him and it hasn’t even been a full day yet. 

Then, Red thought, because moping wasn't their style, instead of getting lonely and feeling helpless, one way or another, I’ll get revenge. 

Red Mage sat waiting for him in the kitchen the next morning. 

Over their tented and laced hands, they gave Summoner the most dazzling smile they could manage at like nine in the morning.

The surprise on Summoner’s ugly mug made getting up so early worth it.

Summoner cleared his throat, “You’re- up early,”

“So are you-” 

They couldn't suppress the yawn that followed and lost the threatening aura they were trying to go for, so Red Mage silently gave it up.

Summoner smiled and walked towards them. “I’ll tuck you back into bed, c’mon.”

“I’m not being tucked until we’ve talked. Sit.”

“Red-” He cast a furtive glance behind him that didn't go unnoticed, “Maybe later?”

Looking directly into Summoner’s face, Red repeated. “Sit.”

He obeyed wordlessly.

There was the faint hope in their mind that maybe Summoner knew what he had done wrong and would apologize, but when he just sat there looking like a puppy who had been kicked, Red took pity on him and asked, “Are you ignoring me?”

It wasn’t fair. Barely a day didn’t qualify as ignoring someone, but when you didn’t know where that person was, it was a different story.

He froze at first.

Then slowly, his excuse of an answer tumbled out.

“Oh, twelve, no.” He laughed, “There’s… just been a lot of stuff going on, at home, and- Let me start breakfast while we talk.”

He nearly tripped over the chair when he tried to get up. 

Red asked, “Is it related to Black moving in?”

He set the chair upright and started the stove. 

A noticeable amount of time had passed before he finally said with hesitation, “No, of course not. I’m sorry it seemed like I was ignoring you. I’ll... leave a note or something? The next time I go out?”

“Okay,” A loaded sigh, “I believe you.”

“Then, you’ll forgive me? Again, I’m really sorry-”

“I’ll forgive you.” 

Summoner opened his mouth to say something. Red cut him off.

“I’ll forgive you and believe you on one condition.”

The skillet on the stove clanked as it fell on the burner. “What’s the condition?”

“Come home for dinner tonight,” Red said, and saw fear slowly materialize on Summoner's face. It was both pleasant and disappointing, but even so, they needed to finish speaking.

“We haven't had a proper dinner with the three of us yet, and it just so happens I’m owed a favour by the Bismarck.”

They didn’t have to finish the sentence because Summoner already knew the rest of the words. It was like Red Mage had a knife against his throat without actually touching a blade.

“It would make me really happy.” 

Summoner swallowed.

“I just think it would be nice for the house if all three housemates got along, you know? Since we’ll be living together and it would be nice if we all ate together at the same table.” 

“Well,” He said, looking away, “Are we going out for dinner, then?” 

Red Mage pondered over the idea for all of three seconds, “It would be nice to eat in and the food won’t be completely fresh, but we’d have each other’s company to make up for it?”

“You won’t be upset if the food isn’t perfect?” He asked again.

“If it’s that much of a bother, we can just make something."

Still facing the stove, he thought about this for a long time.

Then, finally, when Red’s anger was about to boil over, Summoner sighed and agreed, “Okay. Only for you.” 

Red threw their arms around his waist and tip-toed to kiss the back of his neck. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

Because Black was standing there gawking at them from the stairs with a small and empty mug of coffee in his hand. The noise from their conversation, or maybe it was Summoner tripping of his chair, must have woken him up.

“Is everything alright? Am I interrupting something?” He was staring at them now, and Summoner quickly averted his gaze and Red detached themselves from Summoner with ease.

“Not at all, did you hear something?”

“Something about dinner.” 

“Ah, yeah, that! We were going to have food brought over from the Bismarck for dinner. Will you join us?” 

“It’ll be cold by the time it gets here.” Black said, coming to the logical conclusion, “Unless the waiter can teleport.”

Red thought about this and then nodded with confidence, “Then we’ll make something, instead. I am quite a skilled culinarian, after all.” 

It was hard to resist looking at Summoner’s face because they were sure he was making some sort of ugly expression at the thought of all of this. 

Perhaps forcing them to have dinner together was a mistake, but if they weren't going to talk about whatever was happening between them by avoiding each other, Red decided they would at least give them pretense to talk. 

This whole thing shouldn’t have been so complicated if Summoner and Black Mage just talked about it instead of avoiding it, Red decided.

It wasn’t like they could just ask. Summoner hated it when they pried, but then again, Red was the same.

Black Mage snuck glances between the two of them. Summoner looked like he was desperately trying to melt into the wall or astral project into the lifestream, and Red was smiling at him leaning against the wall with such confidence that he couldn’t just straight up say no. 

“... I have plans this evening,” He lied, “but I’ll see if I can make myself available. Is there anything I can pick up for you on the way home?”

It was cute how he said that without looking straight into their eyes. He wasn’t looking away, but he wasn’t looking anywhere,

“You’ll have to let me come up with dishes first, but thank you. I’ll see you tonight.” 

Black’s shirt collar was buried underneath their robes, so without warning, Red reached forward and set it back in its proper place. 

An almost luminescent blush surfaced on his face as they pulled back. 

Black Mage exhaled, and as he left for wherever he was planning to go, the smell of burnt eggs wafted through the air.

The two of them sat in the kitchen. 

Red was stirring some sort of stew and reading off a cookbook at the same time. Behind them, Summoner peeled a stack of potatoes with a paring knife. 

They heard another soft curse, one of many that afternoon, as the potato slipped out of his hands and into the pile of peels. He sighed, and then picked up where he had left off once again. 

“You don’t think he’ll ditch us, do you? I never gave him a time, but-” 

The quietness of Summoner's reply was concerning. “You heard him, ‘I’ll try to make myself available’ or something.”

“Yeah but I mean, that could just be a lie to get me off his back, though? People do that.” 

Sometimes you do that. 

“Maybe, but-,” said Summoner, but he cut himself off, having lost interest in the conversation. 

So it ended there. 

Exhaustion crashed over them like a wave.

There was a flare of anger and frustration, yes, but it left as quickly as it came. Red’s hands clenched and then unclenched.

Summoner was in a mood and didn’t want to talk, and now they were in a mood and didn’t want to talk either.

What good would it have done if the conversation kept going? Red already knew, neither of them really wanted to say anything going into the conversation, and if it kept going the unspoken resentment Summoner surely already had for them would overflow. 

A few hours ago, a group dinner sounded like a good idea. It had been a rushed, impulsive decision, yes but the idea of solving this weird tension all at once? 

What made them think that they would talk if they were taking such deliberate paths to avoid each other? 

Red bit the inside of their cheek only to draw blood. They had been biting it all day, it seemed, but for whatever reason, it only hit them now.

“Potatoes are done,” Summoner announced, “Where do you want them?”

“Rinse them off first, and then just set them on the counter and I’ll take care of it. Um, can you mince the gar-”

They didn’t get to finish the sentence because all of a sudden Summoner was kissing them.

All the tension they were holding just evaporated at once. Summoner’s hands were planted on their shoulders and maybe just too warm. He immediately apologized when they pulled apart. 

“I’m sorry,” Summoner said, “For being short with you.” 

But being short with them wasn’t actually the issue here, was it?

“It’s okay,” Red said with a wilting voice.

“It’s not okay,” he said and kissed them again.

Maybe it was hard to tell through tears, but Summoner’s eyes flickered with a soft blue glint.


End file.
